Fire Meet Gasoline
by ceafiction
Summary: AU Dean's your average firefighter. Go to work, get the job done, go home. But when tragedy strikes his family, he takes in his younger brother, Sam. But that's not the only new member of the Winchester household. When Dean meets and saves a homeless man named Castiel, he takes him in and Dean's life will never be the same again.
1. A Spark is All It Takes

"Winchester," shouted Jacobs. "You really did a damn good job back there." Jacobs slapped Dean's back as they exited the restaurant. Dean smiled down at the ground.

"Thanks." He hated compliments. He never knew what to do with them.

"How in the hell do you do what you do?" asked Mavrick.

Dean looked back up and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, really. I just go in and get the job done." The crowd of firefighters hollered and cheered. Dean only then noticed that Olson still had his beer in his hand as he raised it to the sky. The men patted Dean on the back and messed up his hair. Soon they began to walk faster than him, and he fell behind the crowd. They yelled and cheered, "Dean! Dean! Dean!" as they went, but none looked to see why he was no longer among them.

Dean didn't really care for the social aspect of being a firefighter. He came to work, did the work, and all he wanted to do at the end of the day was to go back home to relax and sleep. But today had been a good "hard" day for him. He pulled a young boy and a seventy pound dog out of a burning apartment building in one trip, the boy in one arm, the dog in the other. The boys insisted they take Dean out for dinner and some beers. The only reason why he said yes was because his fridge was pretty much empty and he had another week before pay day.

He walked behind them with leftovers in tow. He ordered the largest plate of hot wings he could find on the menu so that he knew when he came home tomorrow, he would at least have a supper. The styrofoam container squeaked inside the plastic bag was he walked. The street was lit with lights from all sides. Cars flew down the road like there was no speed limit, and there really wasn't in this small down. Dean's eyes wandered, looking in windows as he passed, glancing at people sitting at tables or shopping late at night in Mom and Pop stores. Few people walked the streets and those that did quickly ducked into buildings to escape the sharp winter wind.

As he scanned the sidewalk, he noticed a bundle of blankets up against the wall, tucked between two windows. He walked passed and noticed it was a man sitting there, the blankets pulled up to his chin and over his head. Dean stopped. A tattered wool hat was pulled down to his brow. His blue eyes stood out from the smeared dirt and rough, full beard on his face. The man shivered and his teeth clicked as they hit. His face looked gaunt like he hadn't eaten in weeks, and he probably hadn't. The man looked up at Dean, but even though he stared into Dean's eyes, it seemed like he didn't see someone in front of him, his expression blank and tired. .

"Dean," called Peters, the rookie. He had turned and noticed Dean had stopped.

"Comin'." Dean took off to catch up to the group, but before he got halfway, he turned around. The man was no longer watching Dean. He was staring straight forward at the traffic without seeing it. Dean looked back at the guys and they were all walking away still cheering and singing. Dean jogged back to the man in the blankets and set the leftovers beside him. "Stay warm," said Dean as he backed away. The man looked at Dean like he had a third eye. He looked completely surprised to be given food because at first he didn't touch the bag. His eyes followed Dean and then the bag, and back at Dean and back at the bag.

"Thank you," said the man with a hoarse deep voice. Dean smiled slightly and ran to catch back up with the crowd, looking back over his shoulder about twenty times until they all turned the corner. The man in the blankets never looked away.

Dean climbed the stairs to his apartment slowly, dragging the tips of his toes on the iron steps. He jangled his keys as he trudged down the narrow hall and came to his door. When he opened the door, he breathed in and sighed loudly. He threw his keys in the bowl on the table beside the door and locked the door behind him. His back ached when he pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the couch, not even bothering to put it on the hook on the wall.

He made his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to get out the second to last beer and marveling at how empty the shelves had become. He figured he could go ask his brother for a few bucks in the morning on his way into work, just to pay for some cheap food and a small amount of gas. _I'll stop by the grocery on the way home_ , he thought. Dean closed the fridge door and went into the living room where he plopped onto the couch and set his aching feet on the coffee table. With a simple, easy flick of his wrist, he twisted off the cap and put the bottle to his lips, sipping the ice cold beer, savoring the slight bitter flavor.

He flipped on the TV and tuned into _Doctor Sexy, MD_. He wasn't much into doctor soap operas, but this one had enough hot girls and a good enough storyline that Dean found it interesting. He settled himself into the couch for the night when a thought came to mind. The man in the blankets. Dean kept seeing his face on the TV, in the small crowds that ran around on the screen, heard his husky voice when someone spoke. The thoughts of the man sitting alone and cold outside, pressed up against a building while people walked by without a passing glance made Dean's heart sink into his stomach. He was probably one of the few if any that stopped, talked to the man, gave him food out of kindness, treated him like a human being. Why the clock on the wall read one, Dean turned off the TV and tossed the remote next to him. He rubbed at his eyes as he stood. He went into his bedroom, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and fell into bed. Thoughts of the man in the blanket haunted in until he fell asleep. Even in his dreams, he wanted to say he saw the dirty, rugged face with bright blue eyes in the crowds.

At 3 o'clock, his home phone rang loudly beside the bed.


	2. An Inferno

**I'm sorry it's been forever. I've been so freakin busy the last few weeks, plus I was on vacation in Arizona for the SPNPHX con! I know this chapter is really, really short, but I hope to upload the next chapter in the next day or so, so don't fret! Thanks for the patience.**

Dean pulled into the parking lot, three minutes after the Chief called. The pros of living a few blocks from work. He saw that the last truck was about to pull out of the station. The Chief waved to him as he ran over to his locker and grabbing his full suit and helmet. "Ready, Winchester?" asked the Chief.

"Yes, sir," answered Dean as he hopped into the back of the cab. The Chief and another firefighter followed. "So what's going on?"

"House fire," answered Mavrick at the wheel.

"Big?"

"Sort of," said the Chief. He didn't look Dean in the eye.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's the address?"

Mavrick cleared his throat and said quietly, "601 Beaumont Drive." Dean's heart fell to his feet. _Sammy_.

"Sammy's place?" asked Dean. The Chief nodded slowly. "Drive faster, Mavrick."

Three minutes later, they pulled in front of Sam's house. Fire billowed out of the bottom floor windows, and smoke rose to the night sky in tall, gray columns from the upper windows. Neighbors stood in robes and blankets outside their homes, watching the fire engulf the building. The other truck in their unit was now just hooking up to the fire hydrant beside the curb, and three men were getting ready to break down the front door. Dean leaped out of the truck before it came to a stop, and took off across the lawn. The men broke down the door and fresh air rushed in, making the fire more intense. The roar of the inferno was deafening, and a large boom from something exploding echoed out, shattering any windows left unbroken. The heat coming off the house rose. Dean shoved past the men and ran inside, flashlight in hand.

"Sam!" he shouted over the the roar of the fire all around him. Furniture was burning along with shelves and pictures on the wall. There seemed to fire everywhere he looked. The kitchen was the worst. He couldn't even see the room. It was engulfed in flame, just a ball of orange taking up the whole room. "SAM!" He rushed past the stairs, rushing into the dining room. The wall adjacent to the kitchen was overtaken by flames, causing the whole room to become blanketed in smoke and ash. Even through his mask, Dean could smell the sickening chemical stench of paint and plastic burning. Fire was beginning to move its way inside the room from the doorway that led to the kitchen. "SAM! JESS!" Dean was about to move upstairs when he heard a small cough. A crumpled form was laying on the floor, tucked in a corner. A bucket sat next to it. "Sam?"

"Dean…" whimpered Sam. He looked up, and all Dean could see of his face was his eyes. The rest of his face was black with ash. Dean rushed forward, pushing an oxygen mask over his brother's face.

"Heya, Sam." Dean pulled Sam up, wrapping his arms behind his back in order to hold him up. "Where's Jess, Sam?"

Sam's eyes widened. He coughed out his words, "Up-stairs,- hurry."

Dean pulled Sam closer, dragging them both back into the living room. Footsteps came from upstairs. Dean sighed with relief and kept moving towards the door when a man shouted from upstairs, "Go, GO, outside, NOW! Everyone out! Collapse!"

"No, no, no," mumbled Sam as he struggled in Dean's arms. "Jess!"

Dean pulled harder on Sam's shirt. "SAM, move, dammit. We got to go, Sam, we have to." Other men were already making their way quickly down the stairs and out the door. Jacobs came and put his arm under Sam's and helped Dean get him out of the house. Pulling Sam away from the fire was no easy task. He pulled and punched and kicked his way out and across the lawn. They were almost to the ambulance when he just collapsed onto the grass, his finger digging into the sod. He screamed, but it was muffled by the mask. Tears left gray streaks as they carved their way down his ash-plastered face. A loud moan came from the house, and Dean turned in time to see the house collapse in on itself. The back corner fell, taking the walls with it, the upstairs crumpling, and the roof came down like it was being sucked into a blackhole. Sam screams turned into sobs as he curled into fetal position, his hands covering his face. Soon he made no noise, but his mouth was still open as if a scream was pouring out, his neck straining under the stress.

Dean knelt beside his brother and put a hand on his shaking shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

The fire burned into the night.

The man with the blue eyes never even heard the sirens ring out that night.


	3. A Walk in the Park

**A month later**

Sam sat quietly on the couch, flipping through the channels again. He had already been through them two times already, but he needed anything to keep his mind from wandering. After a few minutes of mindless clicking, he tossed the remote next to him and grabbed one of his school books as he leaned back. He was in his final year of law school; he was so close to graduating, he could taste it. But it was bittersweet.

He had to replace all of the school books he had at his house after the fire. It cost a great deal and dug into his checking account, but they were things he needed. A job at a firm was already lined up for him after graduation, but he held a small job at a local vet clinic in the meantime just to bring in some cash. Jess loved dogs, too…

He pushed the train of thought out of his mind and continued to read the almost endless stream of babbling words on the page. He didn't hear Dean come into the living room. Dean came in with beer in hand and plopped on the couch next to Sam.

"How's it going, Sammy?" asked Dean with a wide grin. He took a sip of his beer.

Sam cleared his throat. "Fine."

"You don't sound 'fine,' Sam. Dude, come on, you need to get out of the house for a while. How 'bout you and me head into town and just walk around? You know, get late breakfast or something before I have to go to work."

"Dean, no. Please, I have to study." Sam kept his face in his book, unwilling to look Dean in the eye, because he knew if he did, Dean would know for sure why he didn't want to go out.

"It's always, 'I have to study,' 'I have homework,' damn, man. Give yourself a break for once, huh? Sam, you've been through a lot of shit the last couple of weeks, and-"

"Dean, I said no. That's the end of it."

Dean looked down at his beer and sighed in defeat. He had a stubborn-ass little brother that always dug in his heels, but he knew he couldn't rush him either. Sam was having a hard time, a lot harder time than when their mom died, but he figured Sam was so young then, he really didn't get to know her as well as Dean did. "Alright, Sammy. I'm sorry." Dean stood up and began to make his way towards the front door. "I'm gonna go to the store to get some milk and some other stuff. Do you need anything?"

"No," answered Sam coldly from behind his book.

Dean took his jacket from the hook and grabbed his keys off the small table. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Ok."

Dean walked out and locked the door behind him. He made his way down the hall towards the stairs, keys twirling on his finger.

Castiel walked around aimlessly, feet dragging on the concrete. He pulled on his jacket in hopes of getting warmer, but recently, he felt like he could never get warm. It was mid December and the wet cold was making its way into his bones. He shuffled to a park bench where he sat down quietly. He gingerly pulled out a tin foil ball and began to pull the crumpled foil away to reveal a half eaten piece of rye bread from a steak restaurant a couple of blocks away. Castiel hated going near that place anytime it was open because all he could smell for blocks around is the wonderful scent of sizzling food. It made his stomach growl, so he kept his distance during hours, but as soon as the staff left late at night, he would make his way to the back alley and take whatever leftover bread or uneaten baked potato he could find. Meat like steak and chicken was almost impossible to come across, but Castiel didn't really care as long as he had something to fill his stomach at night. The bread he carried was from yesterday, so it was a little hard, but it was the most bread he had seen in quite a few weeks.

He nibbled at the stale corner as he watched people pass by. Some ran by with earbuds glued in their ears, some pushed strollers or dragged small children who pointed at pigeons, while some held hands as they walked, uncaring and in love. Castiel like to watch people. Not in the creepy way most think. He just like to see how other people were moving along in life, how they went through their day, what they did in their spare time.

He continued to watch and eat slowly when he heard a small hoot of a bird and turned to see a mourning dove hopping over to him. It stared at him with almost unseeing eyes. Castiel stared back and then realized what the bird was after. He tore off a chunk of bread and tossed it to the dove. It took the bread in its beak and stared at Castiel before it flew away. Castiel sighed as he watched it climb higher into the sky. He soon found himself watching the small snow flurries fall, and part of him loved to watch the snow. It was beautiful and pure. It was white and elegant as it drifted to the earth. But another part of him knew that tonight was going to be very cold, and he wasn't sure how many more cold, sleepless nights he could handle. He had yet to find a real place with a roof and walls to lay his head at night. Most nights were spent tucked behind a dumpster or nustled underneath a bench. He pulled his backpack closer because he knew he could never lose the blanket inside. It was probably the one thing that had kept him alive so far.

Castiel went back to watching the people go by, scanning the small crowds that moved around the park like it was an ant hill. He let himself focus on a few faces, ones that looked angry or extremely happy, but he mostly focused on their movements, which ones were in a hurry and which were just out on a stroll. He was about ready to take his wad of tin foil and stuff it into his pack when he scanned the people again and spotted a familiar face. A man with a stern jawline and bright green eyes was carrying a few bags of groceries to his car across the street. They were a good fifty feet away but he swore he could hear the man hum some AC DC song he couldn't name. Then Castiel realized why the man looked familiar. He was the man that had stopped many nights ago and gave him his leftover hot wings. Castiel remembered how timid the man was around his friends and how he was almost afraid to be seen giving a homeless person food. But Castiel also remembered how sweet his voice was when he told him to stay warm. He remembered how bright his eyes were in the false lighting of the city at night. He remembered the small smile he gave as he turned away and how he kept looking over his shoulder as he until he turned the corner.

Then Castiel felt guilt. He couldn't be seen again. He didn't want to be pitied by this man, not again. Even though the food was filling and the human interaction was something long overdue, he didn't want the man to pity him. Castiel grabbed his bag and stood. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and looked at the man across the street to see the man staring back. The man paused for a moment and then waved slightly before closing his trunk. Castiel gave a small nod and turned his back to him and began to walk away.

Castiel heard the roar of the man's vintage car as he started it up but kept walking anyway. He tugged on his bag as he went, ready to get out of the park and to a place he wouldn't be seen.

The man with the green eyes sat in his car and thought of Castiel and how a man so thin before looked even more gaunt now. He felt a tinge of pity as he put his car into gear.


	4. Breathing in the Smoke

**A week later… 8:35am**

Dean watched Sam from the stove. He had been keeping his eye on his brother for a week now. Sam seemed to be getting better, less volatile, talking more, his head less in the clouds and books and more in the real world with Dean. Dean was worried it was some sort of facade his brother was putting up in order to get Dean off his back, but at the same time, he hoped it was really Sam getting better. He flipped his omelet one more time before placing it on his plate. He carried it to the table where Sam sat, eating his bowl of cereal.

Sam set down the morning paper and smiled as Dean sat next to him. "That smells good," said Sam, eyeing the omelet. He stole Dean's fork and took a chunk of the omelet and shoved it in his mouth with a grin.

"Hey! You got your organic wheat crap cereal, keep out of my food!" Dean moved his plate further away from Sam. Sam snorted and continued to eat his cereal. "So what do you have planned for today?"

"Not much. I got one class at ten, and then I don't know what to do. May go to the diner for lunch." Sam paused as he put another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chewed. "Damn, I got an essay due on Monday. I'll head over to the library after lunch and get some books. You?"

Dean shrugged. "Eh, not much either. I'm gonna be late getting home tonight though."

"Why?" asked Sam, his mouth full of cereal.

"The new guy, Peters, his wife's C-section is scheduled for today, so I said I'd cover the last part of his shift. Just a few hours though."

"Alright." Sam picked up his bowl and knocked back the milk. He stood and put his bowl in the small sink. "Well, I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Please do." Dean snorted and Sam rolled his eyes with a smile. Dean finished his omelet and put his plate in the sink as well. "I'll be gone by the time you get out."

"Ok, see you after work."

"See ya."

Sam went down the hall towards the bathroom, and Dean followed but turned into his room. Since Sam moved in, Dean had to sell workout equipment he had in the spare bedroom down the hall, and used the money to buy Sam a bed, a dresser, and some extra clothes and necessities. The room was small but Sam was grateful to have a roof and bed anyway. He thanked Dean nonstop the first week he moved in. He was hesitant at first to move in, but Dean insisted over and over again, saying it was only temporary, just a place for him to stay until he could get back on his feet. Dean went into his room to change into jeans and a t-shirt and left for the very, very long day he didn't know was ahead of him.

 **10:53pm**

The station was quiet. Most of the guys were gathered in the small rec room watching TV, but Dean sat alone in the kitchen at the table with the newspaper laid out in front of him, scanning over stories and random articles to pass the time. He periodically checked the clock on the wall, and it seemed like the hands were moving slow, even going backwards at times. He had another two hours before his shift would end and it couldn't come fast enough.

He was just getting into a article about how "global warming" was making the winter more harsh than usual when the siren went off. He jumped up excitedly for the first sign of some action of the night and made his way to the garage. The voice over the loud speaker said the address but Dean didn't listen. His heart was beating violently in his chest. _About time_ , he thought to himself. He was getting antsy sitting there with the paper, reading, not doing anything. He always felt a sort of high when the adrenaline pumped through his system. That's why he loved his job.

He jumped into his suit and pulled his gear onto his back, other guys around him doing the same. He hopped into the truck and waited for the others. The Chief got in the truck with him when everyone was ready to head out. "Large fire in the industrial zone just out of the city limits, some warehouse. Bystander called in. Shouldn't be anyone inside. Place closed down years ago. Dispatch said we'll be able to see it," said Chief as he settled into his seat and buckled up.

Dean smiled widely. "Alright, let's do this."

"Move out!" shouted the Chief. The truck lunged forward and Dean was bouncing in his seat.

 **11:09pm**

With a loud roar and the shriek of the brakes, the truck came to a ungraceful stop along the curb. Sure enough, from blocks away, Dean could see the column of smoke rise into the night. The fire was more intense than he had thought it was going to be. It was going to be a very long night by the looks of the flames flowing out of shattered windows. It was a single building on fire, thankfully the building wasn't very large and only one story, but the almost the whole thing was in flames, everything inside most likely destroyed if not already.

Everyone filed out the truck, most were struck by the site of this building burning so brightly. No one was supposed to be inside, and Dean highly doubted someone would be and the neighboring buildings were far enough away, they were in no danger of catching, so everyone stopped and started, taking it all in. The Chief came up next to Dean and the rest of the men. "Alright, ya idgits, show's over. Put her out." The hoses were taken off the truck and hooked to the few fire hydrants they could find. Dean led one of the hoses and pulled it toward the fire. He opened it up and began to shower the flames, letting the water stream through the windows. When he began to move to another section further down the side of the building, he heard a small whimper over the roar of the water and fire. He shut off the hose.

"What the hell are you doing, Winchester?" shouted Benny, who headed another hose.

Dean shook his head. "Shut up. Everyone turn off your hoses!" Everyone looked up, unsure what to do. The Chief shouted from behind him, "Winchester, what the hell do you think you're doing, boy? If you don't turn that hose back on, I'll-"

"I hear something. Turn your hoses off!" One by one, hoses began to shut off. Whatever it was moaned loudly. "Someone's inside!" Dean took off and pulled himself up to see into the shattered high window. He peered inside and tucked underneath the window was a man leaned against the wall. It was a large room with a high ceiling, but part of the ceiling had collapsed, trapping the guy inside against the wall.

"There's someone inside!" Dean rushed to the nearest door, pulling his oxygen mask over his face as he went. A handful of men followed him inside while most began to spray the building again with more urgency this time. The door was missing so Dean ran inside, going towards the front left corner where he saw the man sitting, not caring about all the flames around him, how hot he was in his suit, how he knew the ceiling and walls wouldn't last much longer. He came up to where part of the ceiling support had fallen, part of it on fire. There was a large enough space for a man to get through if he crawled on the floor, but the fire was beginning to spread. "I need a fire extinguisher!" Someone came up behind him and handed him a large extinguisher. While he was trying to aim it, Dean's hands were shaking because he knew he was taking too much time. He began to spray the fire on the fallen support.

When it was only left smoldering, Dean threw the extinguisher and laid on his stomach, beginning to crawl under the twisted and charred metal. He looked up when he was half way under it and he saw the man sitting there, his head between his knees, an ash-covered cap covering his head, crying loudly and coughing between sobs. "Come on!" shouted Dean. He reached out his hand. "Come on! Let's go! I'm getting out of here!" The man looked up slowly, with tears falling down his sooty cheeks. His eyes were a bright, ocean blue, shimmering in the warm glow of the fire. His face was black from ash, but his eyes, his eyes were brilliant, standing out from all the black.

Dean stopped, he couldn't catch his breath. He stared at the man he saw all those nights ago, sitting alone, the man he saw a few days ago at the park, thin and gaunt, shy. The man began to crawl towards Dean, clearly unaware of who was behind the dark mask. Dean took his dirty hand, but it was warm and firm, and Dean gave it a squeeze as he pulled the man to the floor with him, coaxing him under the metal. "It's okay, it's safe for now, come on." Dean spoke quietly, trying to hide his surprise at this coincidence, but at the same time trying to get this man to come with him. The man was hesitant to crawl under the support he knew would crush him if it gave, but he stared at the unknown face behind the mask, unsure where the eyes were, and nodded. He pushed himself under and pulled himself out. Dean took out a spare oxygen mask and gave it to the man who looked on the verge of passing out. With a tug, Dean pulled the man to his feet, shaky but standing.

Dean quickly lead the man to the door, other firefighters ahead and behind him. Someone asked the man if anyone else was in the building with him, and the man shook his head. The man moved slowly from weakness so Dean almost had to carry the man out. "Don't worry, we're gonna get you some help."

They exited the building and the heat almost vanished as the cool night breeze brushed over them. The man nearly fell at the feeling of the cold after being in the fire so long and without air. An ambulance was already on the scene and an EMT was making his way towards Dean and the man. Dean didn't even realize that he still had his hand wrapped around the man's arm to keep him upright, so he let go went the EMT took the man's other arm.

"No, no, no, please," pleaded the man behind his oxygen mask. "I can't go to a hospital. Please."

"Why not, sir," asked the EMT.

The man shook his head. "I can't- I can't afford it."

"Sir, you have to get medical attention. Money isn't an issue right now. What's your name?"

The man kept shaking his head. "No. I can't go. I have nothing, please. I don't need medical attention."

The EMT was looking angry now. Dean knew that the man could refuse medical attention, but he worried too. He knew the man had to had breathed in a massive amount of smoke not to mention he was malnourished and thin. With a nod, the EMT said, "Fine, but at least let me look at you for now. No cost, just to make sure, okay?"

The man looked down at the ground. "Okay." The EMT began to walk the man towards the ambulance. Dean took off his mask and helmet and throw them towards the truck. He followed them up to the road. The man sat down on the edge of the truck with his eyes focused on the ground, refusing to look anyone in the eye. Dean stopped short, standing away so maybe the man wouldn't recognize him. The EMT placed his stethoscope on the man's chest and back, making him breathe in and out deeply. He listened to the sound of the man's coughs and checked his eyes and throat. He pulled off the man's jacket and examined the small cuts and burns that ran along his skin, from his face to his fingers.

"Well, I think you check out alright. Nothing majorly wrong, but you'll have to keep an eye on those cuts and burns. Your breathing is a little heavy but with some fresh air, your lungs will be as good as new. Now, your weight is what is concerning. When was the last time you ate a full meal?" The man didn't answer, just kept his head and eyes down. He shrugged after a while. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"A few days ago," said the man with a husky voice.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night? Anywhere? Family, friends?" asked the EMT. The man shook his head. The EMT looked up at the sky, unsure what to do.

"I could take him." The EMT looked at Dean. Dean took a few steps forward until he knew he was in the light of the ambulance. The man looked up as well, and his eyes widened at the site of the man he had been seeing everywhere it seemed. "I'll take him to my place, give him a night out of the cold, some warm food."

The man shook his head, his eyes wide, his brows furrowed in confusion. "That's unnecessary. I can do well on my own."

"No," answered Dean. "You'll die out here. You almost did. Please, just for the night." The man looked between Dean and the EMT. His adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat, unable to find the words he needed. After a few moments of staring at the ground and at the emerald green eyes that watched his every move, the man nodded. "Great. My shift doesn't end for a another hour, but I'm sure the Chief won't mind me leaving early. Come on." The man stood up slowly with the help of the EMT and made his way to Dean's side.

Dean couldn't believe what was coming out his mouth. _What am I doing?_ Why was he bringing a stranger home? Why was he bringing this man home with him, a homeless man he saved in a fire? Why did it seem so easy to offer up his home to this man? Why did it feel like he wasn't in control, that words that weren't his were falling out of his mouth so easily. Why did he find himself getting lost in the lost face of this man? Dean held out his ungloved hand. "My name's Dean Winchester."

The man stared at the outstretched hand and took it with hesitancy. "I'm Castiel Novak."

Dean smiled at the sound of the name. "Nice to finally meet you, Castiel." The name rolled off his tongue so well. "Come on, let's go home."


	5. Home Sweet Home

**I am so sorry for taking so long to update! So many things have happened the last few months. Between some very serious medical problems of mine the last few weeks and the start of my freshman year of college, I just haven't been able to find the time to write until now, and even then I can only find 5 minutes here and there to write. Thank you for being patient with me and sticking with this story. Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Dean didn't wait for the rest of the guys to put out the warehouse fire. He called a taxi because he wanted to get far away from the still smoldering, collapsing building, and he knew Castiel felt the same. Castiel kept his gaze from the smoke and fire. He kept his head down as he walked along side Dean, almost leaning against him for support. They made their way a block over where the taxi driver knew where to pick them up. Rarely did anyone ever ask to be driven into or out of the industrial part of town that seemed more like a ghost town in of itself. Castiel struggled to walk the block, and Dean almost had to carry him the entire way. He weezed as he tried to fill his ash-filled and tired lungs. His legs ached and his head pounded from hunger and lack of oxygen. He just wanted to curl up and sleep forever.

When they reached the empty deserted intersection, they stopped and Dean helped lower Castiel to the curb to rest his legs and give him a break. Dean stood awkwardly silent beside him, watching the man struggle to catch his breath and admired how delicate his hands were as he absentmindedly rubbed them together for warmth and to remove the soot that covered them. Castiel begged that this man wouldn't start up some conversation for he knew he wouldn't be able to speak. He prayed that this man would change his mind so he could go and be by himself, the way he liked it.

He didn't pray hard enough though. Without looking down at Castiel, Dean asked, "What happened?" Castiel kept his gaze at the ground and pulled his jacket tighter around him. "Huh?"

Castiel looked up at him with teary eyes. "I started a fire in a trash can and fell asleep. When I woke up… the place was on fire. I tried to put it out but it kept spreading."

Dean looked down at him, but Castiel turned his head before Dean could see the tears rolling down his face. "Why didn't you get out?"

Castiel shook his head. "I didn't want to."

The eerie glow of headlights shone from down the street before Dean could respond. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Turning to Castiel, he held out a hand. "Come on." Castiel took it with reluctancy as Dean hauled him to his feet and steadied him.

"Where do you live?" asked Castiel, trying to change the subject.

"Uh, uptown in a small apartment complex."

"Oh." Castiel watched the lights get closer. The old yellow cab's brakes squeaked as it came to a stop in front of them. The passenger window rolled down slowly as the driver had to lean over to manually roll it down. The man looked tired, exhausted, and ready to go home even though it wasn't that late at night. _Probably from driving drunks around_ , thought Dean. The driver's face was hard to see in the dull orange glow of the streetlight. "Dean Winchester?" asked the driver, frustration in his voice.

"Yes, sir."

The driver waved and sat up in his seat without even bothering to roll the window up. "Hop in." Castiel stood where he was, waiting for Dean to get in the cab first, but Dean gestured at the door with a tired grin. Castiel opened the door and a flood of warm air pushed itself out of the car, washing over Castiel. He ducked inside and slid across the bench seat. Dean followed and pulled the door closed behind him.

"Where to?"

"Lynwood Apartments on Glendale St."

Dean saw the driver roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. "On the other side of town?" questioned the man with a strain in his voice.

With a stern face, Dean said angrily, "Yeah, it is. I've had a long night and my friend has had an even longer one." Castiel looked up at Dean when he said "friend. "So I just want to get home."

The driver put the cab into gear quietly, and the car lunged forward with a jerk. As it began to pick up more speed, the cold night air began to flow into the car from the open window and into the back seat. Castiel began to shiver again. Dean looked down at him and leaned towards the driver. "Can you roll the window up?"

"Not while I'm driving, sir."

"Dammit," mumbled Dean under his breath. Dean had taken off his suit before he left the warehouse and threw it in one of the trucks. All he had on was a thin jacket. He pulled it off and held it out to Castiel. "Here, Cas, take this."

"No, thanks. I'm fine." His teeth chattered in his mouth. "Keep it."

"No, you're not fine. Take it." Castiel took the jacket to keep Dean from getting mad and pulled it around his shoulders.

A few minutes later, the cab stopped in front of the Lynwood Apartments. The building was dark with the exceptions of a few bright windows. Dean pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills at the driver, not waiting for his change. He hopped out of the cab. "Come on, Cas." Castiel pulled himself out of the cab and followed Dean towards the apartments. Dean held the door open for Castiel and then led him up the stairs and through the narrow hall. He stopped at the door and unlocked it, pushing it open with his foot. "Home, sweet, home." He trudged inside and threw himself onto the couch facefirst. Castiel made his way inside and closed the door gingerly. He looked around at the room. A couch and a few chairs sat at the center of the room facing a small TV stand. A few pictures hung on the wall, but other than a lamp and a small bookshelf and coffee table, the room was bare of life like it was a model home with no one living there.

"Uhhhhh," groaned Dean with his face in the cushions. He rolled over and stared up at Castiel. "You can sleep on the couch tonight. The blankets are in the linen closet." He pointed at the door across the room. "The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. I'm in the room at the end of the hall if you need anything. The fridge is free game if you're hungry now. I'll make a big breakfast in the morning."

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean smiled. "You're welcome." He sat up and dragged himself to his feet. "Well, goodnight, Cas."

"Why do you call me that?" asked Castiel.

Dean smiled tiredly. "I don't know. It's easier than 'Castiel.' It's got a ring to it." Castiel smiled. "Good night."

"Night," answered Castiel. Dean walked down the hall and closed his bedroom door behind him. Castiel sat down on the couch and laid down without getting the blankets out of the closet. He curled up and closed his eyes with a sigh.

He had the best sleep he had had in months. For the first night in many months, he slept through the night. No cold wind or nightmares kept him up that night.


	6. A Hot Shower and Hot Coffee

**I'm so sorry, guys, for not uploading in so, so long! Forgive me cause I know how it feels to read a fic and then it's not done and never updates! College has been hectic, but I made it through my first year somehow. (I'm majoring in psych in case anyone wants to know) Summer has me busy because I'm trying to start up projects, and it's been hard to find motivation recently. Anyways, I'm sorry again. It may be a while in between chapters but hopefully never this long again.**

 **-I've got some news. If any of you are on AO3, I'll be there as well. I'm bringing over all of my fanfictions, including this one, over to AO3. I will of course keep updating and adding new stories on here, but I'll also be doing the same on AO3. I'm only doing this because there is a new fanfic I want to start up, but here on , I can't because it's a band fic… so. But don't worry, I'll still be here!-**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. It's a little short but I'm trying to collect my thoughts again and figure out where I'm wanting to go with this. I'm sorry for any mistakes in this chapter, I'm just trying to get it out as quickly as possible. Thank you for sticking with me! Love you guys!**

Dean woke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. Sighing, he turned over to face the warm light of the morning sun coming through the thin curtains. The room was chilly, just the way he liked it. He laid there under the covers for a while with eyes half open, content.

From down the hall, he heard the shower turn on. He glanced at the clock by his bed and noticed that it was too early for Sam be up and taking a shower. Dean normally woke up long before he heard Sam making any noise in his room and would lay there in bed, waking up slowly and quietly until he knew Sam was up and moving. He threw the blanket off of himself and sat up with the groan. His whole body ached, his bones creaked, and his muscles screamed at him to lay back down.

Sam's door, that was across the hall from Dean's opened with a rusty squeak. "Dean?" called out Sam, wondering why Dean was in the shower at 6:30 in the morning.

Then Dean remembered Cas.

He leaped up and dashed to the door and flung it open, almost crashing into Sam, who stood leaning out of his doorway. His hair was a wild mess."Oh, hey," said Dean with a pathetic I'm-not-hiding-anything smile.

Sam's brows furrowed. "Why is the shower on this early?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry. I got in late last night, and I'm dying for a shower right now. I just forgot... a... shirt." Dean pulled his arm back in his door and grabbed the shirt that was laying on the dresser by the door, and held it out for Sam to see.

"Uh-huh." Sam didn't look convinced, but stepped back in his room and closed the door.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and threw the shirt back into his room and headed to the bathroom. He almost turned the doorknob, but realized that Cas needed the shower and his privacy. With a deep sigh, he continued down the hall and sat on the couch that had no blankets on it. He figured that Cas must have put the blankets back in the closet. He moved his eyes from the bathroom door and Sam's, hopeful that Sam was back in bed, asleep, and wouldn't be coming back out for a few more hours.

Dean sat there waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

What felt like thirty minutes passed when Dean heard the shower turn off. He sat up and waited some more. Finally, the door opened gently, and a scared and light footed Cas stepped out. He was still wearing the same dirty clothes minus the coat and hat that were laying neatly on the table, but he looked clean and his hair was a spiky, wet mop. Cas wasn't looking at Dean sitting in the living room, but was watching Dean's bedroom door. When he was out of the hall, he turned and let out a gasp when he saw Dean sitting on the couch.

"Dean, you…" mumbled Cas.

Dean placed his index finger over his mouth, hushing Cas. "My brother is still asleep."

Cas looked confused. "Your brother? I didn't know anyone lived with you."

Dean stood and ushered him to follow him into the kitchen. "Yeah, it's complicated." When Dean realized that Cas had followed him into the kitchen, he turned to face him. "Where did you think you were going, huh?"

"What?" asked Cas quietly, his eyes moving rapidly around the room.

"You were wanting to get out of here before I woke up, didn't you?"

Cas nodded. "I didn't want to be a burden to you."

Dean shook his head. "You're not a burden, Cas. You're a guest." Dean ran his eyes up and down Cas. "And a guest that could use some new clothes, a hot meal, and a place to sleep for a few days."

Cas finally made eye contact with Dean. "A few days? Dean, I can't-"

"Nope," interrupted Dean, "you are staying here for a few days until you get your strength up. I'm going to get you some clean clothes to wear for right now, and then you're going to enjoy a good breakfast, and later I'm going to take you to buy some new clothes."

"Dean, I appreciate your hospitality, but it isn't necessary. I am doing much better now that I've had a shower. I don't have to stay here. What about your brother? He may not want me here."

"I don't give a rat's ass about what my brother thinks. He'll be fine with it. And besides, when do you think your next shower will be? A week, a few? No, man, you're staying here for a little while."

Cas knew that Dean had the say so it seemed, so he gave up, and sighed. "Ok."

"Alright, stay here, I'll be back." Dean dashed down the hall and came back with an armful of clothes. He passed a pair of pants, a shirt, unused underwear, and socks to Cas with a smile. "Thankfully, we're about the same size sorta."

"Thank you, Dean."

"No problem. Now, what would you like for breakfast?" asked Dean.

"Um…" Cas was at a loss for words.

With a wide grin, Dean said, "Know what, I'll make a spread. Some pancakes, sausage, toast, the whole nine yards." Cas nodded, still unsure that this was all real. Cas wandered out of the kitchen with clothes in hand while Dean began to take out pots and pans.

Cas returned to the sizzling sound of bacon cooking. The clothes felt nice and clean, smooth against his skin and not itchy. He could no longer smell himself but the warm scent to the detergent Dean used the clean his clothes. They were a little baggy cause of his thin, skeleton frame, but it was nice. Dean smiled from the stove when he saw Cas enter the room. "Feel better?" Cas nodded with a smile smile. "Good. It'll be a few more minutes until everything is done so just sit down, watch some TV."

Cas did as he was told. He sat gently on the couch he slept on the night before and took the remote in his hand and began to flip through the channels. He had almost forgot what it was like to watch TV. He couldn't remember that last time he had seen a screen.

A few minutes later. Dean called him to come back into the kitchen where Dean had laid out all the food on the counter. There was bacon, pancakes, sausage, orange juice, toast with butter, and hot coffee. Cas's mouth began to water has he placed a few strips of bacon, a sausage, a couple pancakes, and a slice of toast on his plate. He took a mug of coffee and made his way to the small breakfast nook table that sat in the corner by a window. Dean made his plate and sat across from him. Dean said nothing but smiled as Cas began to wolf down the food in front of him. When Cas was nearly done, Dean laughed. "There's more if you want some. Have all you want, you deserve it."

Cas looked up from his plate, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Thank you, Dean, really." Dean smiled back. "This is very good. I can't remember my last hot meal." Dean's smile fell and his eyes dulled, but Cas turned his attention to his food again.

"I'm glad you like it," said Dean quietly as he took a swig of coffee.

The sound of barefeet on tile echoed in the small kitchen. "Hey, Dean, whatcha making for breakfast?" asked a sleepy Sam as he stumbled into the kitchen. Cas dropped his fork with a clatter. Sam made eye contact with a strange thin man in Dean's clothes sitting across from his brother.

Sam mumbled, "What the hell?"


	7. Walls Come Crumbling Down

**I am officially on AO3! (I'm not active right now, haven't written anything in months). I don't think I'm going to bring any of my stories over from here. I'm just going to have two different fanfic accounts. Whoo. I'll give you my username if you want to check me out once I start writing and putting things up hopefully soon. And again, I am so sorry for not uploading in so long. Life has been unbelievably busy. College is back, and I'm trying get myself into a rhythm between classes, homework, art, and general life. I'm literally trying to write during midterms. Probably not the best idea. Wow, I sound like a broken record. I really don't know how much longer this fanfic is going last if I can be honest. I'm getting tired of it and it seems to be getting nowhere as quick as I thought it would, so instead of making it some long piece like I originally was, I'm going to try to wrap it up in the next few chapters. I'm sorry guys, it's just I'm getting bored with this one and since the show is on hiatus, there's no new inspiration at the moment. I don't want to drag anything out, and I feel if I'm not invested I don't write as well. Now this may change, idk, I may write more to this than I'm thinking if I get into a really good writing mood. We'll have to see. Sorry guys. I will still be writing on this site. Idk if I've said that before or not. Thanks for sticking around.**

"What the hell?" asked Sam as his eyes moved back and forth between his brother and the strange man sitting in his kitchen.

Dean stood while Cas sat with mouth agape, hand still in the air as if he was still holding the fork he dropped. "Sam, I can explain."

"You better. Who the hell is that and what the hell is he doing here?" Cas closed his mouth and gulped loudly as Dean searched for an explanation. He hadn't really thought of what he was going to say. "Well?" asked Sam angrily.

"Um, this is my friend, Cas." Cas looked at Dean with wide eyes. _Friend?_ He had only known him for a few hours and he doubted rescuing was a qualification for friendship. Dean himself really didn't realize what he had said as well. "Um, he was in a warehouse fire last night, and he had no place to stay so I brought him here."

Sam crossed his arms, unhappy with Dean's response. "And? What was he doing in a warehouse fire? No place to stay?"

"Dean, I should leave. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." Cas stood from the table. "I'm so sorry."

Stepping in front of Cas, Dean shook his head. "No, you're staying here. It's fine."

"Um, 'scuse me. What the hell is happening right now?"

Cas sat back down slowly as Dean turned back to Sam. "He- I- I rescued him from the fire. He's homeless, ok." Cas stared at the floor with dull eyes. _Please kill me_ he thought to himself. "He was in the warehouse when the fire started, and I got him out. He was close to death, Sam. He wouldn't go to the hospital so I brought him here."

Sam's eyes softened as he realized what was happening. "Oh." Cas continued to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry that I freaked out, Dean."

Dean grinned shyly, unsure if Sam was done having his rampage. "It's fine, dude."

Sam looked at Cas spacing out. "I'm sorry. Your name is Cas, right? I'm Sam." He held his hand out for Cas to shake, but Cas was on another planet called Kitchen Tile Floor.

Dean bumped him with his elbow. "Cas."

Looking up, startled, Cas saw a large hand raised and awaiting a response. He took his own hand and shook Sam's, whose almost crushed his with its power. Cas couldn't tell if why it hurt was because he was still so weak or from the fact that Cas felt like he had childlike hand compared to Sam. "I'm sorry about blowing up"

"It's fine," responded Cas hoarsely, throat closing up on him from anxiety. He wanted out of Sam's gaze. His eyes were warm now with understanding, deep and a little sorrowful, but Cas couldn't block out the roughness of his raised voice. Sam was capable of serious anger, and Cas didn't want to be the target for it. He turned his focus from the floor to Dean who sat there with a grin, happy that Sam was past his rage.

"Want some breakfast? We have plenty," asked Dean, standing to pour another cup of coffee.

"Yeah, sure." Sam took a piece of buttered toast and sat down at the table, eyes moving up and down Cas, examining him like he was some alien he had found in the desert. "I just don't like people coming over, ya know. It just freaked me out. Not up for much company recently. It's fine though."

Dean turned from the coffee pot with two cups of coffee, giving one to Sam. "Yeah, Sammy is not too much of a morning person. He likes his peace and quiet in the morning." Dean smiled as he took his seat.

"So, where are you from?" asked Sam.

Cas was still staring at Dean, looking for a way out. He snapped out of it to look at Sam. "Oh.." _Where was he from?_ He almost couldn't remember. "I'm from here. I lived a few blocks away."

"Oh really," said Dean between bites of food.

"Yeah." He looked disappointed. Dean saw a flash of regret in his eyes, like he wish he wouldn't have said anything.

Sam took a sip of coffee, burning his tongue. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you, ya know, become… homeless?" Dean looked at Sam with piercing eyes, cutting him with his gaze. Sam looked at him like he had no clue what had come from his mouth. Dean turned his sight back to Cas who looked like he was spacing out again, eyes unfocused on his food.

Cas had been holding back all this time. No one talked to him for months. He was no one for months. He knew he shouldn't do this. He shouldn't spill everything. He didn't know these people.

But something about Dean and his gaze and Sam's warm smile told him he was safe. Dean noticed a change in his face, a wall behind his eyes dropped, and his mouth opened, lips parting.

"I was a doctor. Worked at the hospital. I always like helping people, I guess. I had a family. A wife, Amelia, and a daughter, Claire. I loved them so much," Cas choked on the last few words but kept his composure. "One day, I don't know, a switch was flipped. I think it was the stress. I went to work one morning and saw another patient die. I was just tired of watching people die day after day. I- I just went crazy. Started throwing things, screaming at the sky, whole nine yards. They had to sedate me." Cas laughed weakly like it was funny or sad, Dean couldn't tell which. "I ended up in the psych ward. They told me I had a mental breakdown. Guess it's true. Lost my job, my wife left me. I haven't seen her for months." He paused for a moment, lost in the wood pattern of the table. "I couldn't get a job again cause who would want a doctor that had a mental breakdown at work." He laughed again, dryly. He took a deep breath. He felt tired. He poured out his everything to people he barely knew. Why he did, he still wasn't sure. But another part of him felt better, the weight deep in his chest gone. He felt like he was reconnected with other humans. He hadn't been a part of that in a long time.

Sam and Dean sat staring, mouths agape, unsure what to say. _Did he really just spill out all of that?_ thought Dean. People didn't just tell you their life story, but Cas just did. He didn't know what to even begin with, but thankfully he didn't have to.

"I'm so sorry to hear about that," said Sam. Dean thought that Sam would have said something a little more rousing, but he just stayed silent in shock.

"It's fine."

They all sat in silence for a while. Cas fully spaced out now, Sam chewing on toast, and Dean forking food into his mouth slowly. After a while, Dean's plate was empty, so he set his fork down and cleared his throat, an idea popping into his mind.

"Ready to go clothes shopping?"


End file.
